


6 Months Before the Buses Came

by Emergent



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emergent/pseuds/Emergent
Summary: Based on the theory that Harry and Cassandra were in the hospital at the same time.





	6 Months Before the Buses Came

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was originally proposed by Sam Lake on Youtube. Enjoy!

Harry looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. 

It's only been 2 days since the overdose but he feels like he's transformed into an entirely different person. His clothes have been replaced by an ugly blue hospital smock, his normally neat brown hair is a rat's nest, and there are dark purple circles under his eyes. He looks as exhausted and empty as he feels.

Harry gets like this sometimes, so angry at himself and angry the world that he stops feeling anything at all. At home when that happens all he wants to do is curl up in bed until either he starves to death or that horrible, ugly feeling goes away, whichever comes first. Right now, however, in this tiny white hospital room that's feeling more and more like a jail cell, his gut instinct is to get the  _fuck_ out of here. 

Harry shifts in bed so that his bare feet are dangling just above the title floor. He tugs anxiously at his hospital bracelet which is suddenly constricting his wrist like a handcuff, making panic rise in his chest. Yeah, screw what his dad and the doctors said, it's time to leave. Holding his breath, he lowers himself to the ground as quietly as possible and slips out of the room. 

In truth, Harry probably doesn't even need to behere anymore, at least not for reasons outside of satisfying his parents' paranoia. The doctor confirmed this morning that the drugs are long gone from his system and he's just being tested for heart or brain damage. Harry's also pretty sure that his family is planning to force him into rehab when all this is over. Of course, a tiny part of him is screaming that rehab sounds like a great idea. He can't shake the feeling that he's still lying on his back on that bathroom floor, his heart rate rising and rising until he literally feels like it's going to burst out of his chest, making pitiful cries for help that no one can hear over the music blasting outside. It had been horrible and traumatizing and he'd never wanted to feel like that again, but it won't go away. Maybe talking about it wouldn't be the worst thing- But no. If he stays, he'll have to keep seeing the disappointment on his mom's face every day, the fear on his little sister's. The best thing to do for his family is to fuck off out of this town and never look back. 

He avoids eye contact as he makes his way through the hallways, which is easy since no one is paying any attention to him. It's probably even colder outside than it is in here but the sunset looks incredible, glazing the world behind the windows in rich pink and purple light. He gets to a dead end and huffs in frustration. Where the hell are the elevators in this place? 

As Harry makes a random turn down a new, more crowded hallway, he wonders what the kids at school will think about his disappearance. He'll give his parents a call once he's far enough away so it's not like he'll be showing up on any milk cartons, but still, it'll be weird that he was there one week and gone the next. He figures that his being found unconscious at a house party and carted away via ambulance is already the talk of this small, nosy town, so maybe people will just figure he's getting treatment. 

Maybe it'll be like he really did die on that bathroom floor. 

There will be a lot of people who are thrilled that he's left. His teachers, probably, at least the ones that he was an asshole to. Then there's Kelly, his on-again off-again girlfriend since she moved to West Ham freshman year. He can see how much it hurts her every time they fight over his drinking or his attitude or whatever shitty decision he's made that week, and he has no doubt that she'll feel relieved he's gone. Kelly deserves so, _so_ much better. His dad and the academic counselor Dr. Weiss will be happy to never have to lecture him about how's he's ruining his future again. And then there's this girl at school... 

"Nice dress."

Cassandra Pressman cannot seriously be standing behind him right now. No. The universe is not that cruel. 

"I know you can hear me, Harry." 

Apparently it is. Harry masks his face with his usual confident expression before turning around. "Cassandra," he jeers, pronouncing her name wrong on purpose because he knows it annoys her. His arms are outstretched and he's wearing a huge shit-eating grin like he owns this hospital. "Fancy seeing you here." Cassandra raises an eyebrow. She's got that look on her face like he's a bug on her window, alive and un-squished due to only her mild curiosity. "Are you okay?" "I'm excellent. Really. That's why they I was sick, I was just doing too great. Luckily you seem to have cured that so I guess I can leave, see you at school Cassandra." He turns around and starts to continue down the hallway but Cassandra runs over to block his path. He groans in annoyance. " _What?"_

"What happened to you?" Her arms are crossed in front of her and Harry knows that there's no way she's letting this go. He could just ignore her, but if she snitches on him now he's fucked. "If I tell you will you pretend you didn't see me?" She nods but doesn't move. Harry looks around uneasily. How long until one of his parents come back or the doctors notice that his room is empty? Cassandra seems to notice his anxiety building and she takes his arm gently, leading him behind her. "Come on, I know where we can go." 

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The back wall of the medical library is made of glass. Harry can see all of West Ham and the sun sinking behind it. 

He and Cassandra are tucked between two rows of books, their bean bag chairs pressed up against the wall. There is a stubby plastic green table between them with a folded up checkerboard and a paperback titled  _Black Holes and Warped Spacetime._ Other than her hospital "dress" that matches Harry's, Cassandra looks how she always does, poised and in control, not one perfect blonde hair out of place. He thinks he could come back in 100 years and she would look exactly the same. 

"This might be the first time we've actually talked outside of school," he points out, and she mockingly feigns sadness. "How tragic. What about debate team?" "Either in our school or someone else's, so, still counts." 

That's a bit of a sore subject between the two of them. Cassandra has beaten him out for captain of the debate team as well as student body president every year of high school, something his parents and sister love to tease him about. In a way Harry's been at war with her ever since she was the little golden girl in kindergarten with those same blonde bangs. He remembers the jealousy burning in him when she got picked first for everything, when Mom and Dad asked why he couldn't have good manners like Cassandra Pressman. In elementary school he retaliated by stealing the shiny ribbons off her ponytails and targeting her in four square. These days he just amps up the cocky, privileged jackass routine whenever he's in her presence. It's more than a little humiliating that it's Cassandra of all people to be seeing him this vulnerable.

"What are you doing here, anyways?" he asks, realizing he has no idea. Jesus, no wonder people think he's a selfish dick. "I asked you first." "Overdose. Happened on Friday." Seeing her face change he quickly adds, "It was an accident. I was at a party, things got a little out of control." "More than a little, I'd say," Cassandra muses, studying him closely. Her tone is light but he can detect genuine concern in her eyes, making him defensive. "Hey, I like to have fun. These things happen sometimes. I wasn't- I wouldn't try to kill myself." God, why can't anyone understand that? 

After a long moment Cassandra says, "I have a congenital heart defect. When I was a kid I was in and out of the hospital all the time. For a while now I've been okay as long as I take my meds and come back for tests a few times a year but they're saying something came up in my last echo and I might need another surgery." 

Harry swallows. Suddenly him and his story about almost dying on cheap coke feel absolutely ridiculous. 

"I, uh... I had no idea. About your heart." 

"I know. I don't talk about it much."  

"I'm sorry, Cassandra."

She smiles at that. "You just said my name right." 

Harry rolls his eyes. "Don't get used to it." 

As the evening goes on the bright colors outside slowly fade until it's just Cassandra's steady voice and Cassandra's big blue eyes and the curves of Cassandra's face glowing with moonlight. Harry doesn't say a lot but he doesn't mind, it's nice to have a distraction from the storm of embarrassment and withdrawal that's been raging inside of him these last couple days.

If Cassandra had asked him to stay because he hasn't been formally discharged or because she knew how badly he wants to raid his mom's pill cabinet, he would have been gone. But as they get to talking about her experiences, like how she's the one who named the fish in the pediatric unit, and how bitter she still is about missing the fifth grade field trip to the Mark Twain House, he's starting to see her more and more for who she really is. Yesterday Harry was the one with loose threads, the one whose entire facade could fall apart with one tug, and Cassandra was this immovable force of nature that he could only pretend to be. But today Cassandra isn't some infuriatingly perfect figure in his mind or an opponent he can never defeat. She's a human being. She's scared and she doesn't want to be alone. When she asks him to stay with her the answer is an immediate and unreserved yes, surprising the both of them.

He plays it off like he'd already changed his mind about leaving before student government elections.

"You should go to sleep soon, you look super tired," Cassandra says as they make their way out of the library. They've decided to hit up the vending machines since hospital food is a fucking plague. He nudges her playfully and replies, "Thanks a lot, Pressman, you look like shit too." 

Because it's not like he actually likes her or anything. 


End file.
